


Smile for Me

by RagtimeSpecter



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Dally’s blonde, Dialogue Heavy, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Underage Smoking, kinda OOC, no beta we die like men, shotgunning? For like two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagtimeSpecter/pseuds/RagtimeSpecter
Summary: “You ever feel happy, Dally?”Or: Dally and Johnny smoke and talk for almost 2000 words (and kiss a little). Warning for swearing & smoking.
Relationships: Johnny Cade/Dallas Winston
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	Smile for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so I haven’t read The Outsiders since I was 13 so this is probably OOC, but I just wanted to write about these two. There’s underaged smoking and swearing but otherwise it’s pretty PG, Dally and Johnny just talk and then smooch. Enjoy!

“You ever feel happy, Dally?”

It took a moment for Johnny’s words to sink in, then another for them to start to sting. Then, they burned. Dallas’ eyes fixed blindly on the colorful front of the magazine he was holding. It was some curvy broad in a towel, but he couldn’t really appreciate it.

“Whaddya mean, Johnnycake?” Dallas snorted through a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He began flipping through the zine. Cheap perfume samples, waxy and acrid paper, girls in bikinis; he felt like he should be enjoying this a lot more than he did.

Johnny kicked his boots up onto the table across from the Curtis’ couch. “I dunno.” He shrugged, looking at the staircase for some absent savior, or a rogue Two-Bit or Ponyboy. “I just don’t see ya look happy a lot, is all.”

“I mean...right back at’cha, you never smile.” Dallas whistled loudly, toes curling in his shoes while his shoulders sat tense beside his clenched jaw. Johnny waved his hand around a bit. “You trying to catch a fly or dizzy yourself?”

“Eh. I just do this sometimes.”

“You look like a zombie.”

Johnny made a comical grunt and Dallas elbowed him playfully. He laid back again, eyes glued to the popcorn ceiling. “I’m happy, guess just not enough to show it,” Johnny continued. “I mean, I ain’t sad. I guess I’m angry a lot, or tired, or scared—”

“So, you’re not happy,” Dallas added.

“This isn’t about me.”

“I wanna hear about ya.” Dally winced a bit and felt his face warm up, but added, “If you ain’t feeling good, I ain’t feeling good. Talk to me.”

Johnny sighed through his teeth and sank into his own lap, biting his cheek like a wad of gum. “I just feel alone sometimes. Even when I’m with someone, I just feel like any second they’re gonna—” he waved his hands around again and looked at Dallas, “Y’know?”

“Leave?” The magazine had been stuck on the same page for five minutes. Johnny nodded. 

“Yeah. Or turn on me. Or...I dunno, die.” 

The silence breathed down their necks, uncomfortable and chilling. Dallas was the first to break it, after what felt like days of listening to the wind whisper against the edge of the house, by scuffing his shoe on the faded rug and fumbling around in his jeans’ pocket for his box of cigs and a zippo. “Wanna smoke?”

“Inside?” Johnny replied, aghast.

“Sure.”

“But Darry—”

“Is out, and so are the kiddos until tomorrow morning.” Johnny sighed as Dally flipped the lid off of the red cigarette box. He then, scowled, watching one lone weed slide to one side in the box.

“...You can have it,” Johnny mumbled.

“You take it. Calm your nerves.” Dallas’ eyes tried to dig into his face. For once, Johnny’s skin seemed too thick. He pursed his lips and looked down for a moment. Finally— 

“Let’s share.” Dallas stared for a second, then flicked on his lighter. The flame flickered to-and-fro, painting the silver edge with an electric orange glow that climbed up the end of the cigarette and promptly flew away. Dallas let him take the first breath, watching his frail chest clench and open again as he blew out a fairy-trail of bitter smoke. 

“Is it still ‘cause of them Socs?” Dallas got the wheels turning before Johnny could hit the brakes. John’s gaze hung onto him for a second. 

“I know it’s stupid, you don’t gotta tell me,” Johnny replied as he passed him the cigarette. Dallas watched him, every bit of him— heavy dark eyes, tight tan lips, gaunt freckled cheeks with the tongue pushed against them. His hand found its way up to Johnny’s shoulder, and both jumped before relaxing again. Johnny’s jacket was cold. Dallas’ hand was hot, and so was the puff of smoke he let out a bit too close to Johnny’s face.

“I don’t think it’s stupid. You’re...Well, you’re allowed ta’ be scared after all that. I dunno how I’d deal with that if I were you. Dunno if I could, thinkin’ about them coming back or someone else hurtin’ me that way. Couldn’t even walk. And your folks too, god, I couldn’t live your life.” Dallas hoped Johnny didn’t mind him taking another hit before he handed it back over. Johnny snickered, and Dallas smirked and ruffled his fluffy dark hair. “What?”

“Just thinking about ya being a neurotic fuck like me. You’re Dally Winston, you’d get on fine.” Johnny blew smoke into his face and Dallas laughed, giving him a small shake on the shoulder. Their thighs were touching now, bruise to bruise under their jeans. 

“Well, between us, scary Dally Winston couldn’t do shit without people he could trust.” Maybe he imagined it, but Johnny seemed to lean against him at that. Dallas looked over and down a bit at Johnny resting against his shoulder. The cigarette switched hands again. 

“Is scary Dally Winston happy?” Johnny asked. He paused again, then lowered his voice with his eyebrows knit worriedly and his eyes stuck on the magazine again. “Sorry.”

Dallas froze. The cigarette was getting shorter by the second and the smoke was working it’s way around the room in dissolving wisps that Darry would probably chew him out for in the morning. “He’s okay with you here.”

Johnny jumped a little. He could feel Dallas looking at him, with warm eyes that chilled him to the bone. “...Wanna keep going?”

Dally tapped the end of the roll against his knee, where it bit out some fabric. “Y’know. Maybe a little.”

“Go ahead.” Johnny shakily hooked an arm over Dally’s other shoulder. When Dallas went to look at him, his lips were quirked into an odd half-smile and his cheeks were a touch rosy. He couldn’t help but return the gesture with a more solid grin, before it faded with another exhale of smoke.

“I dunno, ‘m not good at this like you. I guess it’s similar. Lonely. Feel hated sometimes, like I’ll never be nothing good. Not like you and Pony. I feel loved, just like I don’t deserve it, or that the people who don’t like me screw me up. But I guess I’m okay. I have you.”

“I don’t think anyone worth while hates ya, Dal. I think you’re as good as they get, even if some of that good gets ya in trouble. I don’t think I’ll help much but—”

“You help more than anyone, Johnnycake,” Dallas interrupted, intensity overriding any embarrassment in his voice. This time he didn’t stiffen or still before he went to touch Johnny’s hand. It was cold, but didn’t take long to heat up with the dwindling cigarette between his fingers and the rub of Dally’s thumb over his scabbed knuckles. Maybe they looked different in every other respect— strong versus scrappy, blonde versus brunet, peach versus brown. The scabs, bruises, and scars brought them together. 

Slowly, Johnny’s fingers curled around his. They were making eye contact again, contact that quickly broke when Dally went back to examining the Sears ad in the paper. “I guess you give me a bit o’ hope, is all. Y’know, if you can make it out the other side alright every time, I can too. You give me someone to...care about. And wanna get better for. I like to see ya smile every time I tell ya how long I’ve been free or sober or whatever.”

“I dunno if I’d say ‘alright’,” Johnny chimed. Dallas scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning his head on his hand over the arm of the couch. “But I’m glad to be here for ya.”

When Dallas turned to watch him again, he saw a small smile working its way up his cheeks and into his blackish eyes, coloring his mole-peppered face from soft jaw to covered hairline. He looked utterly golden, like the sun breaking through the night, with that bright and gap-toothed grin against a sky of curly black hair. 

“Hey,” Dallas choked when he realized Johnny had been speaking. He was still focused on the scuffed beige wallpaper, but his honey-sweet tone was unmistakably directed at him. 

“Something up?” Dal watched the spark on the orange butt of the cigarette begin to die. Johnny glanced over for a moment, going rigid when Dallas caught him instantly. He clammed up for a second and Dallas smirked. “What?”

“...What can I do to get you to smile for me, Dal?” The way Johnny cocked his head reminded Dallas of a dog. A big dog that was getting a little too close, but a fuzzy old dog nonetheless. He continued, waving his hand around and scribbling in the air with smoke. “You make me smile all the time, and I see ya smirk and hoot and holler all the time, but I never see you really smile.” He paused. “I don’t get it. What makes you happy? Not proud or excited, or high or humored, but...content. Or at ease. Elated—”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Pony,” Dallas remarked. Johnny flustered and shook his head. God, his hair was a mess; Dallas wanted to pet it down. He coughed into his hand and, out of the corner of his eye, saw black eating down the orange end of the cigarette. Then, he raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ve got an idea, though. Hand me that smoke.”

Johnny did so, his fingers slipping out of Dal’s grasp as he passed it over. Dallas eyed it for a moment, then put a hand on his shoulder, receiving a jolt in reply. “Close your eyes for a sec.”

Dallas inhaled and Johnny eyed him, but finally sighed and shut them. “You’d better not burn me, man, I swear I’ll t—”

Johnny didn’t get the chance to finish before he was drawn forward by the collar, and felt something scratchy and firm pressed against his lips. He yelped and his eyes flew open. It was Dal, shut-eyed and chap-lipped, gently grasping the front of his shirt. His face went red and his nerves kicked in, making him shake and freeze before he hugged Dal around the neck and kissed back. 

His lips were dry, and when he opened his mouth, a trail of smoke fluttered in and almost got him to choke. It was messy and kind of gross, but felt oddly right. This is what kissing should be like, not the rehearsed and soft way it was in movies. 

It didn’t last for even a minute before Dallas pulled back (and accidentally hit Johnny across the nose). They made eye contact for a mere second before Dallas turned his head around and coughed. His eyes were wide and wild, like a caged animal, running around the room. His face was equally flushed. He kept his hands to himself, the cigarette forgotten and crushed under his boot. “Uh...shit, John, I’m so sorry—”

“Did it work?” Johnny’s mouth felt dry and eyes felt wet, though he’d learned to hold that feeling back over time. Dallas stared at him. Slowly, Johnny’s lips opened and showed teeth, pulled into a soft smile, a few laughs dancing their way out of his throat. “I mean, it worked for me, but you ain’t smiling.”

“Yeah.” Dally’s voice was light as air. His mouth quirked into a smile, slit wider by a snicker. And then they were laughing together, red faced and barely apart. Johnny wiped his eyes, a few tears slipping out, and Dallas held his hand again, the shiny skin of the scars on their fingers shining in the golden light starting to leak through the blinds. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t proofread this, sorry if there were any mistakes. Not my best work but I’m contributing to this fandom. Thanks for reading!


End file.
